


Hands Off the Fist of God

by drakkynfyre47



Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-07 11:57:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3173160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drakkynfyre47/pseuds/drakkynfyre47
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael Carpenter is good at a lot of things. Dealing with the pitfalls of romance? Definitely not one of them. </p>
<p>A short character piece.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands Off the Fist of God

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from one of Harry's lines in _Grave Peril _.__

Michael was ten when his parents told him about the birds and the bees.

It wasn’t exactly a surprise. He was intelligent enough to know that babies didn’t come from the stork, and that biology entered into it, but that was when he first learned the specifics.

Not long after, he started noticing that girls would sometimes go out of their way to talk to him. He wondered if this was part of the birds and the bees, and how long this would go on, mostly because he didn’t know what to do, how to respond, and that made him uncomfortable.

Michael did what he always had: he prayed for guidance.

*

In junior year of high school, the popular boys were asking the popular girls to prom. The boldest of the girls were asking the boys they liked. Everyone was going. Michael’s friends were going. Michael was going to youth group.

His plans changed when a female friend asked him to go to the dance. Michael didn’t think anything of it, since they were close, but apparently everyone else did. It made him a little uncomfortable, realising that he’d practically been roped into a date without knowing. He did everything he was expected to beforehand: bought a corsage, held the door for her, picked her up and drove her to the school. But he couldn’t shake that feeling of unease.

Michael went to the dance, and didn’t enjoy himself.

*

He had known Charity since fourth grade. They’d gone to catechism together, done service projects together, been in class and studied together, and as teenagers, they’d fallen in love together. They had been close before, and as romantic inclinations began to arise, they’d naturally turned toward each other.

The first time he asked Charity out on a date, they’d gone to a soup kitchen. He’d told some of his friends that he and Charity were going out, and they wanted to know how the date had gone. They were shocked when he cheerfully told them exactly how many people they’d made sure wouldn’t go hungry.

Michael made a mental note to stop talking about Charity with his other friends.

*

_Amoracchius_ was the most beautiful work of craftsmanship Michael had ever seen. He’d never owned a sword before, but he knew a good one when he saw it. The soft white glow it gave off when he held it sent a tingling warmth up through his arm. It seemed almost to sing in his hand, through his blood, the balance perfect, as if it had been made just for him.

Charity hated it.

The sword came with the job. Being a Knight of the Cross had its hazards, and the sword served to protect him while he was protecting others. It was definitely a necessity. That didn’t change Charity’s opinion of the thing. Neither did the fact that he had been chosen, out of all the possible people in the entire world, to fight evil on God’s behalf.

Michael resolved to practice only where Charity couldn’t see.

*

Michael was once again trying to help Harry out of trouble when the trail led him to the Velvet Room. He had hoped he wouldn’t be forced to come here, but Harry had left him no choice. Bianca was not only a vampire, but also a peddler of this house of sin.

He walked in, feeling slightly naked without _Amoracchius_ hanging at his hip and his crucifix around his neck, and, regrettably, had to pass through several rooms before he could see Bianca. As he did so, a buxom young woman, apparently thinking he was a customer, slid an arm about his waist, walking alongside him. Politely, he averted his eyes from her rather exposed bosom. She laughed, a clear, bell-like tone that reminded him for a second of Charity. He tried to shrug her away, to no avail. Face reddening by the moment, he struggled not to start running toward the door.

Michael was not going to be easy to appease when he tracked down Harry.


End file.
